


Agatha Heterodyne and the Barrier

by Sturzkampf



Series: The Trials of Moloch von Zinzer [6]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Music, Inspired by a Movie, Originally Posted Elsewhere, discussion of self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sturzkampf/pseuds/Sturzkampf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how Agatha Heterodyne's obsession with a problem she could not solve threatened everything she had accomplished after she had finally established herself in Mechanicsburg as The Heterodyne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Summer of Discontent

**Author's Note:**

> _Note: In this story several characters have a tough time of it and there’s not necessarily a happy ending for everyone. Thought I’d mention it now for those of you who don’t like that sort of thing._   
>  _The story follows on from ‘Agatha Heterodyne and the Ravening Monster’ and a first version was published on the Jaegerkin Forum._

Every Spark is a problem solver at heart. The problem to be solved may be 'how can I change the colour of a butterfly's wings?' or it may be 'how can I create an unstoppable army of fire breathing butterflies to crush my enemies and conquer all Europa?', but in either case the aim is always to achieve something that no-one else has ever done before and show them; show them all. Those of a more analytical frame of mind, such as my good friend Professor Mittelmind, speculate that the one person every Spark is actually trying to impress is themselves; at their core is an insecure child with the constant need to demonstrate their worth to the World.

This somewhat obsessive mind set can lead to difficulties should a Spark encounter a problem she cannot solve (as opposed to the difficulties caused by unstoppable armies of fire-breathing butterflies and other minor inconveniences often faced by the inhabitants of Europa when Sparks do solve problems successfully). When a Spark consistently fails to find a solution then it will rapidly become an all-consuming obsession, as she devotes more and more of her resources and travels further and further away from the worn path of reason in the search for an answer, no matter what the cost to herself or those around her.

This is the story of what happened when Agatha Heterodyne encountered a problem that she couldn't solve; an insurmountable obstacle that she couldn't break through. The story of how her obsession threatened everything she had accomplished after she had finally established herself in Mechanicsburg as The Heterodyne. The story of how the lives of those around her were changed for ever.

This is the story of Agatha Heterodyne and The Barrier.

_\--------------*_

“No!” shouted Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, “No! No! No!”

“Yes!” replied Agatha Heterodyne meeting his stare. “Yes, the new Blackbird will fly and this time I will break The Barrier! Nothing can thwart my plans!”

They were standing in a large new workshop and hangar situated outside the walls of Mechanicsburg examining the invention that was causing their discussion to rapidly degenerate into yet another blazing argument. The Blackbird was a long sleek _Sturzzeug_ , a heavier-than-air flying machine developed by Agatha from Gil’s original concept, to push at boundaries that he had never dreamed of. Shiny black and polished to a perfect finish, it was a streamlined missile with simple swept-back wings, a small cruciform tail and two enormous contra-rotating sets of propellers, one at the front and one at the back, driven by two unfeasibly powerful engines buried in the sleek fuselage. Between them, almost as an afterthought, was a small cockpit for a pilot. 

“These machines have already killed three people!” yelled Gil.

“Two,” said Agatha in her ‘as-a-matter-of-fact’ voice, determined to show that she was the not the one who was being completely unreasonable. “The crash that killed that idiot Jeremiah was his own fault. The incompetent fool made too sharp turn without enough speed or enough height to recover.”

“That... that's not the point! The point is, _this_ thing will kill whoever you send up in it!”

As Agatha had enhanced the capabilities of her _Sturzzeugs_ she had encountered an unexpected problem. At high speeds they become more and more difficult to control and began to shake uncontrollably until the machine threatened to disintegrate. At a certain point, compressibility effects caused a pressure wave to build up around the _Sturzzeug,_ preventing further acceleration due to the excessive drag. To overcome these problems she had designed the Blackbird with the sole purpose of exceeding what she called The Barrier; the speed of sound. For the last three months she had failed. Spectacularly.

“There's no need for you to worry,” she assured Gil. “There won't be a person in the Blackbird anyway.”

“You're using an automated control system?” Gil was relieved. “But will that be sophisticated enough to handle all the variables.”

“No, of course not. Anyway, anything that sophisticated would be far too precious to risk. I'm using an artificial intelligence.”

“A clank? That's still going to be...”

“Of course not a clank! A construct. That wolf woman, Florence.”

This was the fourth Blackbird that Agatha had constructed. She had begun the project full of enthusiasm, but on its Barrier-breaking attempt in the early summer the first Blackbird had suddenly gone into an uncontrolled dive from which it did not pull out and had been completely destroyed when it hit the ground at high speed. An unpredictable freak accident perhaps. But the second one that Agatha built did exactly the same thing a month later. Yet everything said that the Blackbird should break The Barrier. No problem could be found in the theory or the construction. No causes due to pilot error could be established although there wasn’t enough left of the unfortunate pilots to reanimate and ask what went wrong. Agatha’s humiliating failures, in front of all Mechanicsburg, had turned the project into an obsession. Now, after the third attempt had ended in fiasco, she was ready to try again, but the summer was coming to an end and soon the window of good weather would close. If this attempt failed, then another would not be possible until the following spring. Delays were unacceptable.

“Florence!” exclaimed Gil, “But she's alive!”

“She's a construct. Only a construct. A wolf with bits of human brain stuck inside to give it an imitation of consciousness. Not a person. Anyway, it volunteered. It wants to fly the machine.”

“You’re not being logical!” Gil’s voice was rising again. “If Florence is only a machine then how can ‘she’ want anything? If she has needs and emotions then she has to be a person!”

“Are you being obtuse or are you making up stupid arguments to deliberately annoy and obstruct me?! Obviously it’s the nature of her programming to simulate loyalty, combined with her wolf animal instincts!”

As her obsession grew, so Agatha’s patience and good temper had diminished. She no longer had any time for anything or anyone not related to the project. Even her closest friends were feeling the strain. After a particularly frank and forthright exchange of views, Emperor Krosp I had gone on an extended visit to Vienna, taking his army of bears with him. Violetta, ever faithful, still stood by her Mistress, but she was distressed more than she cared to admit by the frequent harangues she received when Agatha unfairly vented her anger and frustration against her, as the nearest person to shout at. Zeetha of course took it all in her stride and continued to treat Agatha as a cross between a difficult teenager and a younger sister, but we could all see that even she was disturbed by the change.

“It’s you who is being stupid!” retorted Gil. “Listen to yourself! How can you talk to Florence for more than five minutes and not know that she is a living, thinking person?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I am the Heterodyne! THE HETERODYNE!! And you?! You are only some little pretend Baron riding on the coat tails of his father’s greatness!”

Agatha might be The Heterodyne and now she had complete control of a fully operational (and rapidly upgrading) Mechanicsburg there was no power in Europa that was about to challenge her position, but the state of Europa as a whole was still precarious. Admittedly now that Martellus von Blitzengaard was no longer in the picture, many of the more overt and clumsy (but very damaging) plots to grab power had collapsed, but The Family was now under the control of the evil Pope of Belfast, a much nastier and more subtle adversary who was as interested in keeping Europa in ignorance, chaos and poverty as he was in dominating it. Supported every step of the way by what remained of the fifty families, who were still not about to bend their knee to any mere Baron, he was doing all in his power to thwart Gil in his struggle to re-establish the _Pax Transylvania_ under the Second Wulfenbach Empire. Gil needed Agatha beside him in more ways than one.

 “I may not be my father, but I can help you,” responded Gil stiffly, stung as much by the fact that Agatha had chosen to attack him in the one area she knew he was vulnerable, as by the insult itself. “We always worked so well together. Please, let me help…”

“What help do you think that you can possibly give The Heterodyne in Mechanicsburg!”

“You need help from someone!” Gil was losing his temper again. “You’ve failed three times and you’ll fail again! Stop! Let’s go through the whole thing from first principles together and find out what’s going wrong and then….”

“You dare to try and thwart the plans of The Heterodyne!?” Agatha shook her first in Gil’s face, her voice rising to full-on Heterodyne fury, all thought of remaining the reasonable one forgotten. “You aren't going to stop me!! I don't care how long it takes!! I don't care what it costs!! I will break the Barrier, do you understand!! This conversation is OVER!!!”

Without another word, Gil turned and stormed out of the workshop. As he left he couldn’t resist a glance back over his shoulder in the hope of catching a glimpse of contrition on Agatha’s face, but The Heterodyne had already turned her back on him and had eyes only for her precious invention.

\---------*

“No!” shouted Moloch von Zinzer, “No! No! No!” He had found Florence working in her favourite workshop and had decided to have one more try to make her see reason.

“Yes,” said Florence. “Tomorrow I will fly the Blackbird and break the Barrier.”

“Or die in the attempt!” replied Moloch.

“Don’t you have confidence in my abilities?” the Vapnoople’s wolf asked.

“Well yes of course! It’s that insane contraption that I don’t trust.”

“But you helped build it. You know it’s all been put together perfectly, exactly according to the Mistress’ plans. You know that it won’t let me down.”

“Oh, it’s built to her Sparky highness’ plans alright, but so were all the others and look what happened to them. There is some fundamental flaw in that design somewhere and she won’t admit it.”

“You think so do you? Have you gone through the theory and checked all the calculations?”

“You know I can’t understand any of that stuff. I only build them. I don’t know what makes them go.”

“Well I do, and I’ve been through it all with a fine tooth comb and I can assure you that all the numbers are correct.”

“And yet there are three craters in the hillside out there. I don’t want you to be the fourth.”

“Oh, and what do you care?” snapped Florence, swinging her muzzle into Moloch’s face in a challenging fashion. She looked Moloch in the eye for a long moment, smelling the waves of conflicted emotion washing over him.

“I... I… Of course I don’t want to lose you,” Moloch began hesitantly. “You know that… that I… that I…” he paused, trying to find the right words. ‘Go on, go on,’ thought Florence. ‘Say it. Oh please say it. Just once, just for me, before I die.’

“I… I… I think you are the best minion I have,” Moloch went on, unable to negotiate the obstacles in his mind. “No one can fix a clank as fast as you. No one is as good as diagnosing what’s wrong with them in the first place and that’s…”

Florence turned away from him, with a yelp that might have been an angry bark or might have been a little sob.

“Oh don’t worry about _that_ ,” she exclaimed bitterly. “You’ll still have Hexalina Snaug and Saana Tryggvasson and the rest to look after _all_ your needs after I’m gone. I’m sure you’ll still manage just fine once I’m another hole in the side of the mountain.” Moloch looked at her in hurt surprise, unsure what he had said to provoke such a strong reaction.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” retorted the Vapnoople’s wolf, “the Mistress wants to brief me on tomorrow’s flight!” With that she turned and stalked out of the room, leading Moloch more upset than he could account for. He reflected that the ‘Ravening Monster’ incident really had shaken Florence up more than she was prepared to admit. He was going to have to ask Professor Mittelmind about it next time they had a drink together down the pub.

\-----------------*

Florence met Agatha in her design room in Castle Heterodyne where she was going over the construction plans of the Blackbird for the hundredth time. Agatha’s secretary, a tall woman, as always dressed in immaculate white, had joined her to keep notes. In a corner, so unobtrusive an unobservant person would have missed her, stood Violetta the faithful body guard. She glared at Florence. The two had never liked each other, but Florence was surprised at how upset the Smoke Knight smelled.

There was no welcoming smile or pleasantries from The Heterodyne, as there would have been in the old days. Agatha’s face was a hard mask. Florence could smell the driven obsession and the waves of unstable emotion pouring from her, shifting through the gamut so fast it was impossible to keep track of them. Together they went through the detailed flight plan for the next day’s attempt to break the Barrier. They both knew the plan by heart, but the repeated briefings were another symptom of Agatha’s obsession.

Something of the old Agatha, only a little glimpse, did show through as the briefing came to an end. “I am pleased that you have stayed loyal to me and volunteered to fly the Blackbird,” she told Florence, “when so many that I thought I could trust have let me down.” Florence’s tail began to wag with pleasure.

“I exist to serve The Heterodyne my Lady.”

“Of course you do. I wish more of my minions would remember that. But are you sure you are the right person for the job? You are rated as a pilot, but it’s not your primary skill is it? You are an engineer. If you feel you are not capable of flying the Blackbird, perhaps I should get Dr Curtis to break The Barrier tomorrow.”

Florence laid her ears back as much as she dared. “You are, of course, correct as always, My Lady. I am, as you say, a mechanic first and a pilot second. But I feel that makes me the better woman to fly the _Sturzzeug_. Not only can I look at the instruments and controls. I can also look at the machine itself. I understand how it works as well as how to fly it. That will give me the edge when – if – things start to go wrong.”

Agatha frowned, considering. “Very well, I will trust you on this. Tomorrow I will break The Barrier. Now off you go and leave me alone. I have a lot of preparation to do before the flight.” Florence bowed and left the room without a backward glance, which meant she missed the completely unexpected expression on Agatha Heterodyne’s face as she watched her minion go.

“Would you like me to contact Jenny Curtis and ask her if she can step in should Fraulein Florence change her mind?” asked the secretary once Florence had gone. She had not missed that expression, but she had been around the Heterodynes for far too long to even consider remarking on it.

“I already did,” replied Agatha, her composure restored. “She was my first choice, but she took one look at the Blackbird and said ‘no thank you’. In truth, she wasn't that polite. I think her engagement has made her go soft.”

She turned to the Smoke Knight. “Violetta, I want you to accompany Fraulein Florence tomorrow and make sure she climbs into that cockpit.” The Smoke Knight nodded. “And if she refuses, kill her,” The Heterodyne continued. Violetta gaped in horror, but Agatha had already turned back to an obsessive study of her plans.

\------------------*

Gil was still angry when he got back to the suite of rooms that Castle Heterodyne had allocated him for his stay. At least they were still in the same place they had been that morning. The Castle knew when it was time to leave strong Sparks alone. He was not surprised to find Axel Higgs waiting for him. Although it had long been an open secret that Higgs was a creature of Mechanicsburg, he had spent much of the last twenty years in the service of the Wulfenbach Empire, first as an obscure airshipman, and then, during the difficult years after the collapse, as right hand man to the young Baron. Now, with Mechanicsburg reawakened, he had resumed his role of servant to The Heterodyne, as ambassador to the Wulfenbach Empire. It was an important role for which he was uniquely suited. He was one of the few people that both Gil and Agatha felt comfortable with.

“So, I take it her Ladyship did not agree to postpone the flight until you’d had a chance to review the designs,” Higgs asked in his unflappable way. He began to carefully clean out his pipe.

“She’s still being completely impossible!” exclaimed Gil. “How can she possibly fail to see there must be something wrong? She’s repeating the same mistakes over and over again! And as a result, all that work will go to waste and she’ll get even more upset.”

Although Gil was generally regarded as Lady Heterodyne’s boyfriend, so far their courtship showed no sign of being formalised and had not progressed beyond the occasional rather strained dinner for two or blazing row on the roof of Castle Heterodyne during a good thunderstorm that caused the matrons of Mechanicsburg shed tears into their tiny handkerchiefs at the romance of it all. The increasingly bitter disputes over Lady Heterodyne’s obsession with The Barrier were now threatening to put an end to the relationship once and for all.

“Not to mention that Fraulein Florence will be killed,” replied Higgs, examining his pipe critically.

“Yes, well, that too. But this situation is utterly intolerable! I’m wasting my time here!”

“You know, if you aren’t around when Lady Heterodyne needs you – and she will realise that she does sooner or later – then I suspect that someone else will be.”

Of course everyone knew that Tarvek I, the Storm King, was also passionately in love with Lady Heterodyne, but apart from a few formal visits he had so far not pressed his suit. He ruled his small Kingdom around Balan’s Gap from his mountain fortress of Sturmhalten, apparently a happy vassal of the Wulfenbach Empire just as his father had been, with no plans for extending his dominions or grabbing more power for himself. As he was not permanently dead, no-one believed this for a moment.

There were those who speculated that he might have some incredibly complicated long term plan in motion to win the heart of the most eligible spinster in Europa, but those of a more thoughtful nature, such as Emperor Krosp, had come to the conclusion that he was waiting for the relationship between Agatha and Gil to come crashing down in flames, after which he could simply move in and gain a beautiful bride and the most powerful fortress in the World unopposed.

The conversation was interrupted by the sudden clatter of a communication device on the windowsill. A stream of ticker tape with a printed encrypted message disgorged from the machine and started to pile up on the floor. Gil picked up the ribbon of paper and began to read the message. If possible, his face darkened even more.

“I must return to the Castle – my Castle – at once,” he informed Higgs.

“Problem sir?”

“Ms Pantagruel has just forwarded an urgent message from the Master of Paris. It’s my father…”

“He’s not… I mean, I hope it’s not bad news sir.”

“I’ve got to go and arrange bail for him.”

“Again? What’s he done this time?”

“He’s been out painting the town red.”

“Is that all? He can’t be the only person who’s gone to Paris to enjoy himself. It sounds to me as though the Master of Paris is deliberately giving him a hard time and being downright unreasonable because of their past history.”

“You may be right, but in this case, it wasn’t a figure of speech.”

“Ah.”

Gil reread the message.

“Apparently father told the Master that it started with the idea that it might be a ‘jolly wheeze’ – I can’t believe he uses language like that – to make the Moulin Rouge live up to its name and it all spiralled out of control from there. The Master’s message gets a bit incoherent after that but it seems that the entire 18th arrondissement is now a most peculiar shade of maroon. Father always did have shocking taste when it came to redecorating. Honestly, I know he feels he has a lot of lost time to make up and yes he has every right to enjoy his retirement, but I tell you, one more escapade like this and I will stop his allowance. I’ve got to get back to the Castle before this escalates into another International incident.”

“This is not a good time for you to leave Mechanicsburg and the Lady Heterodyne.”

“I know. I could swear he does this out of spite to keep me and Agatha apart.”

He grabbed his coat and walked rapidly from the room, heading for the airship docking tower, where his pinnace waited to take him back to Castle Wulfenbach, which was circling Mechanicsburg at precisely the prescribed 3-league limit. Higgs watched him go in his inscrutable way, relit his pipe and slowly sauntered from the room. It was time to discuss tactics with his girlfriend.

\-------------------*

That afternoon, Florence walked down the causeway into Mechanicsburg, through streets full of tourists. News of the Heterodyne’s continued failure had spread and people from all over Europa had come to the town to watch tomorrow’s attempt to break the Barrier. The fact that many of the visitors, be they ordinary tourists, rival Sparks or representatives of the fifty families, had come with the expectation of watching another spectacular failure only made the tension worse, both for Agatha and for Florence. The World was waiting for them to fail. But Florence also noticed that the crowd was less noisy and less exuberant than the usual tourist throng. She hoped that this was respect for the fact that they were probably going to see her die tomorrow, but she suspected it was in fact the old Mechanicsburg beginning to exert itself as the madness of the Old Masters grew in the new Heterodyne. The spirit of that ancient town was awakening to find itself nothing more than an extended heritage centre and its rage was slowly building. Everyone had heard the stories about the Great Siege of Mechanicsburg and what the City was capable of. There were wild whispered rumours of how The Heterodyne would vent her wrath if the Experiment failed.

The wolf walked through the enormous front entrance of the vast Gothic building that rivalled the Castle in more ways than most people realised. Until now, Florence had only ever been in the Red Cathedral when something needed to be fixed. It had been just another building, just another job on the list. But today she walked through the great doorway, not in her _arbeitsanzug_ and tool belt, but in her best dress, and she came not as a mechanic but as a – what? Worshipper would be too strong a word. Supplicant? It made the entire building different, as though she had never entered it before. She saw it not as a machine to be maintained and fixed, but a place where difficult questions might be answered; where perhaps there might be a scent of another world beyond the gears and levers of the mundane material. Of course, this being Mechanicsburg, some of the realms beyond the material that you might glimpse might be less spiritual than others, but when you are a construct, it’s as good a mystical sanctuary as any. She made her way half way down the long aisle and then turned into a small side chapel, where dwelled the person she had come to see. The chapel was empty of furniture and Florence stood with head bowed before the figure that stood on a raised dais at the end of the room. There was a soft whirring of gears as it inclined its head and raised it hand in blessing.

“You are Florence are you not?” said the Mechanical Cleric. “Tell me what troubles you my child.”

The Mechanical Cleric was a humanoid clank, a little over two metres tall, built by Agatha Heterodyne as a result of an unfortunate typing error. At first both Doctor Yglyn and Agatha had regarded it as an embarrassment so had kept it tucked away in the Cathedral and hoped everyone would soon forget about it. As time passed, the curate had discovered that, like all of Lady Heterodyne's creations, it did in fact work rather well. It could perform all the services for any denomination. It never got cross if children started misbehaving half way through one of its sermons. It never minded turning out for funerals no matter how bad the weather or how rowdy the mourners – Dr Yglyn had always dreaded Jäger funerals, but the Mechanical Cleric didn't care. Constructs, and sometimes even clanks, began coming into the cathedral to talk to it and ask for advice. Somehow, they felt more at home with something that, like them, was a product of Mad Science. Occasionally the curate even found himself telling it his problems; it always gave the impression that it was listening without judging and you knew it would keep your secrets.

Florence looked up at the clank nervously. “Tomorrow I will fly the Blackbird and attempt to break The Barrier.” she told it. “In all probability I will die. This is my choice and my way out of an impossible situation with my honour intact. But I am scared. If I die in the Service of the Heterodyne, if I die a Good Dog, will I be rewarded? Will I be welcomed into the Geldwald with my brothers and sisters?”

The cleric looked upward as if seeking inspiration from heaven and clasped its hands in front of it as if in prayer. There was a whirring of perfectly aligned gears from its cognitive engine as it considered. As a trained mechanic, Florence found the sound strangely comforting. The cleric finished processing.

“No,” it told her.

High in the gallery of the Cathedral above the Chapel of the Mechanical Cleric, Dr Yglyn, had been awoken from deep meditation by the sound of voices below. As is traditional among the clerics of many denominations, the curate was partial to a large and well-cooked luncheon, preferably washed down with a bottle of good wine. He found this conducive to relaxed meditation of divine matters in the afternoon. As his attitude in such spiritual moments could easily be misconstrued by passers-by, he preferred to conduct his mediations in a quiet private place, such as the high gallery.

“Um. Sorry?” asked Florence in confusion.

“No, you will not reach the Geldwald or Doggy Hell, or anywhere when you die tomorrow.” the Mechanical Cleric told Florence. “When you are destroyed you will be gone, scattered to the four winds, back to the dust from which you were raised and nothing that is you will remain. It will be as though you had never existed.”

“So there is no afterlife?”

“Of course there is. But not for you. How can you have life when your body ceases to function when you are not alive now?” High above, Dr Yglyn decided that he had heard enough. He hurried to the staircase that led down to the Cathedral nave.

“You are just a construct,” continued the cleric, “an artificial intelligence that has a semblance of life, but is not truly alive, any more than I am alive or the block of stone on which I stand is alive.”

“But I am alive! I am!” pleaded the wolf. “I feel heartache, I feel loss and I feel sorrow. Why else would I climb into that _Sturzzeug_ tomorrow?”

The cleric shook its head. “Those are simulated emotions, a semblance of life. You are nothing but a Turing machine that is programmed to give responses that are indistinguishable from a real intelligence but is in fact nothing but algorithms and mechanism. Do you meet the Three Laws of Humanity? You do not. You are a machine, exactly as I am and exactly as the Blackbird is. If you are both destroyed tomorrow, why then Lady Heterodyne will build another _Sturzzeug_ and she will try again. That is all.”

Florence bowed her head and, covering her face to hide the tears, turned and ran out of the chapel. By the time Dr Yglyn, reached the bottom of the steps from the gallery she had already left the Cathedral. He sprinted to the door without heed for ecclesiastical decorum, but the wolf had vanished into the crowds. Turning back into the building he found a cluster of worried minions standing behind him. On seeing a senior member of Mechanicsburg staff in in a great hurry to leave, they had very wisely decided to follow. Dismissing their concerns with an impatient wave of his hand, he walked back to the Chapel of the Mechanical Cleric. He put his hands on his hips and looked at the clank with annoyance.

“Lady Heterodyne was right,” he told it irritably, “those algorithms definitely need some work.” The cleric looked back at him with its expressionless face, but the head tilted to the left as if to say ‘so what's your problem?’ Dr Yglyn bristled.

“So you think Florence is only a machine do you?” he said, waving an annoyed finger. “Watch her and observe and then tell me if she is a person or not! Use the Castle's eyes and ears, but make sure you engage the _Hinterhältig_ Protocols so it doesn't know we can do that. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” said the clank in its gentle voice. There was a whirring of gears from inside its body and a small plate on its chest drew aside. The gap was filed by three lights arranged in a triangular cluster that emerged from inside the cleric’s body. None of them were illuminated. With a harrumph, Dr Yglyn left the chapel and went back to his meditations, but he could not get back to sleep; he was too worried about Florence.


	2. Mechanicsburg in Darkness

That evening, Zeetha found Agatha in a high chamber of Castle Heterodyne, still obsessively pouring over the plans for the morning’s record breaking flight. Out of habit, the warrior princess paused in the doorway to scan the room for any potential threats and unattended cake before turning her full attention to Agatha; a long interrogating silent stare that even The Heterodyne found it hard to meet. Zeetha had been increasingly concerned that Agatha’s changing personality might be the hateful Lucrezia returning. Although she had been assured by King Tarvek and both the Baron Wulfenbachs, father and son, that the Dybbuk had been permanently eradicated, Zeetha knew enough of the male capacity for self-delusion to take neither Tarvek’s nor Gil’s word on the subject at face value. However, when Klaus had declared The Heterodyne to be clean, then that had been good enough for her. 

“Are you here to thwart my plans too, or do you actually have anything useful to contribute?” demanded Agatha at last.

Zeetha relaxed, ever so slightly. Looking at the Agatha before her, she saw only her _zumil_ , with no trace of the scheming and manipulative mother. She tried to decide if this was good or bad. The return of Lady Lucrezia would be, of course, a Bad Thing, but it was a known threat that could be countered by the Sparks. Agatha’s descent into obsession was new territory entirely, but one Zeetha felt more qualified to tackle herself.

There may not have been any threats in the room, but there was something important missing.

“No Violetta?” Zeetha asked.

“No. I sent her to keep an eye on that wolf,” growled Agatha. “I think she might be about to betray me.”

“You don’t believe that! You’ve been telling me for the last fortnight that Florence is the most faithful minion you’ve got and how all the rest are failing you by refusing to fly in your damned machine.”

“Not Florence! Violetta! I’ve seen the way she’s been watching me when she thinks I’m not looking! The hesitation when I gave her a simple order this morning! She’s losing the will to serve me!”

The reply confirmed Zeetha’s worst fears but she kept her nerve. It might still be possible to pull Agatha back from the brink.

“OK, so no Violetta then. That makes it easier to say what I’m here to tell you anyway. What is all this about Gil?”

“What about him?! Someone else I thought I could rely on! Someone I thought I could trust! How could I have been so foolish! He was here again today, trying to foil my plans to break the Barrier! Trying to get me to delay the flight tomorrow!”

“Never mind that! The question is, do you love him or not?”

Agatha’s train of thought was momentarily derailed by the unexpected question, but such was her respect for Zeetha that even now she never dreamed of being anything but frank and truthful with her.

“Of course I love him. Quite a bit. You know I do.”

“Then it’s about time you showed it.”

“Me?! He’s the one that’s so impossible!”

“He’s a man. It’s part of the design specifications. Get over it.”

Agatha gave a bark of derisive laughter that contained no humour whatsoever.

“You’re hurting,” Zeetha continued relentlessly. “Not being able to break the Barrier is hurting you. Don’t try and deny it. I can see that it’s hurting you and so can he. If you love him, you need to go to him for help.”

“Ask for help?! NEVER!! I am The Heterodyne! I’m not going to run to him when I’ve got a problem that I am perfectly capable of solving myself!”

“That’s not the point now is it? What you must understand is how the male mind works. He is in love with you and one of the things that does to him is give him a massive need to look after to you, to protect you. If he can see you hurting and you won’t accept his help and comfort then you cannot imagine what a negative message of rejection you send to him.”

“I already told you, I don’t need his help and I don’t need his comfort!”

“Agh! You’re not listening! The point is that _he_ needs to help and comfort _you_!”

“So what are you saying? I should admit to the World that I’m not able to fend for myself without a man to look after me?”

“You are supposed to be in love girl! That means caring about your lover! If you are really in love you open up to him because it will make him happy and if you reject him at a time like this you could very well drive him away for ever. And you don’t go all girly and weak! You work with him as an equal and you solve the problem together!”

“I am The Heterodyne! THE HETERODYNE I SAY!! If love means showing weakness then I want nothing more to do with it, do you hear?! If Gil can’t accept that I don’t need his help and I don’t need _him_ then he can go back to his Castle and sulk or dig up Xerxsephina and marry _her_ for all I care. I will turn the cold water of common sense upon my feelings and quench them easily! And there, problem solved.” As she spoke she walked across the room in her agitation and stared out of the window. In the last of the evening sunlight she saw a pair of amorous doves sitting side by side on a high window ledge on the far side of the courtyard, rubbing their necks together in affection. Agatha felt a great wave of emotion and wondered if the entire output of Mechanicsburg’s Aetheric Particle Neutralising Hydro-Atmospheric Drench would be enough to quench the turmoil inside her. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists, fighting to maintain her composure and force her feelings down.

“Now, I’m busy and you are wasting my time! Do you have anything else to say?!” she demanded without turning round. There was no reply. Zeetha had already left the room.

\-----------------------*

Moloch was working late in his workshop trying to reassemble an alternating Reiki collimator and, unusually for him, making a complete mess of it. The work wasn’t urgent. It was only one more task in the endless labour of keeping Mechanicsburg running. Any of a dozen minions could have done the job, but Moloch needed something to occupy him. It wasn’t working. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t concentrate on the job in hand because he kept worrying about Florence. He kept telling himself that his anxiety was pointless. Everything that could be done had been done and now there was nothing to do but to await the outcome tomorrow, but his mind kept going round and round, faster and faster, more and more agitated, like a rat stuck in a maze without an exit. As Florence’s flight in the Blackbird approached he was worried and distressed but he could not work out why. He knew he didn’t want to lose Florence, but since that unfortunate incident when she had killed a Jäger, she had become more and more distant from him and her coldness was like a knife in his heart. Was it that she somehow resented the help he had given her because now she felt under an obligation to him? She was a wolf construct created as part of an unstoppable army to dominate and destroy. Did she feel humiliated at showing weakness? Yet she had seemed grateful when he had come up with the idea about the hats.

“Hey Moloch, working late?”

He jumped at the voice behind him. It wasn’t that Zeetha had been particularly stealthy entering the room; it was simply that his nerves were already on edge.

 “Thought I’d finish this up. Almost done.” As he said it he noticed the hadron collider still sitting on the workbench. He had forgotten to install the tiny component so now he would have to disassemble the entire instrument and start all over again. He sighed and put his screwdriver down. It could wait until tomorrow after all.

“Only, I thought you would want to be with Florence,” Zeetha continued. Moloch squirmed mentally. This was not what he wanted to talk about right now.

“She’s… she’s a bit on edge, what with the flight tomorrow and everything. She’s gone off somewhere to get ready.”

“Did you two have a row?”

“No! Well, maybe a little one. You know, I wish it wasn’t her flying that damned _Sturzzeug_ tomorrow.”

“And that’s it? She got upset and went off and all you are doing is sitting here playing with your toys?”

“What else can I do?”

“Seriously?! You’re going to let the woman you love to go to her death without a fight?”

“I’ve already told you, I’ve tried talking to her, but she won’t listen. No matter what I… Hey, now wait a minute,” he caught the look in Zeetha’s eye, “no, no, no! We already had this conversation! I’m not in love with her and we aren’t lovers, understand? The very idea…”

“And who exactly are you trying to convince here, me or you?”

“What is it with you?! Why are you so convinced that I want to make love to my dog?!”

Zeetha grabbed Moloch by his tunic and pulled him to his feet so they were face to face.

“Now you listen to me Moloch von Zinzer!” she said in a very quiet but very scary voice. “Florence is _not_ an animal. She is _not_ your dog. She’s a person. A young woman. And the sooner you can break through your prejudices and inhibitions the better it will be for everyone.” Moloch was suddenly aware of exactly how strong and dangerous Zeetha was behind all the easy-going bonhomie.

“But… but… I can’t have a talking wolf for a girlfriend. People would look at us and go…”

“This is Mechanicsburg! No-one is going to give a damn! Remember what you said to Florence when you first met? Not only will no-one notice what she is, they’ll take a pride in not noticing!”

“I… I… Hang on, you weren’t there. How do you know what I said to her?”

“If you don’t want what you say to be made public then maybe you need to stop drinking with that idiot Jäger who thinks he can write Heterodyne stories. And next time you are talking to him, tell the cretin if he does have delusions of being an author, for Ashtara’s sake to work out how speech is supposed to work!”

“But…” Moloch was at a loss for words as the knots that had tied up his mind for far too long began to unravel. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“What you need to say you say to Florence, not me. Now get out there and tell her how you really feel about her before it’s too late.”

“But... but what if she doesn’t feel the same way about me?”

“Agh! Ashtara give me strength! This place is worse than Paris!” Zeetha resisted the urge to shake Moloch like a rat. “She’s a Heterodyne minion. A _female_ Heterodyne minion. How do you _think_ she feels about you?”

“Ah. Oh dear. But she’s never…”

“GO! AND! TALK! TO! FLORENCE!”

“But what if I can’t…”

Zeetha released Moloch in frustration and reached behind her back. There was a hiss of polished steel.

“Moloch, what is this?” she asked him. Moloch looked cross-eyed at the sharp and pointy piece of metal that had suddenly appeared five centimetres from his nose.

“Er… that’s your big sword.”

 “And…?”

“And I’ll go and talk to Florence shall I?”

“Good man.”

Moloch von Zinzer left the room hurriedly. Zeetha watched him go.

“Nicely done,” said the voice of the Castle Heterodyne in her ear. “I can’t tell you how gratifying it is to see someone using traditional methods to motivate the minions.”

Zeetha scowled around the room. Not being a mechanic, she never knew where exactly to look when she talked to the Castle and she didn’t like the feeling of combat disadvantage that gave her. It was like having an invisible enemy that might attack from any direction.

“You’ve been awfully quiet recently,” she replied, making a show of examining her blade before she resheathed it to hide her unease.

“That’s because things are going so well,” replied the Castle happily. “Usually I have to complain and argue and cajole to get anything done properly at all. It’s been very trying I can tell you. Now, at last, things are returning to normal. The Mistress is finally remembering her heritage and what she really is. You don’t know how satisfying it all is. Once again the name of Heterodyne will be respected across Europa!”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I know Agatha better than you.”

“You are ever the optimist, little princess. I know the Heterodynes better than you and trust me, they are worse than anything you can possibly imagine.”

“We’ll see!” snarled Zeetha as she strode from the workshop.

“Oh, indeed we shall!” the Castle called after her. “It will be _such_ fun!”

\--------------------*

After Moloch left Zeetha he had some trouble finding Florence. She wasn’t in her quarters in the minions’ wing and no-one seemed to know where she was. Moloch almost hoped that she had done the sensible thing and fled Mechanicsburg. In his heart he knew that her sense of duty would be far greater than her common sense, so he tapped into the Castle’s eyes and ears in order to track her down.

He found that Florence was asleep beneath the stars in one of the rose bowers. Old Faustus Heterodyne had created several of these small platforms at the top of the Castle mount, around the base of the castle walls. They gave a wonderful view over the City and climbing roses growing on canopies provided a delightful romantic setting for courting couples on a summer evening. They also made excellent concealed sniper platforms covering the main causeway up to the main gate when it was under attack.

Moloch walked softly down the steps that led from the Castle to the bower where Florence was curled up asleep on the ornate seat with her nose tucked beneath her tail. She was smiling in her dreams. It had been a long time since he had seen her looking so happy and peaceful. He stretched out a hand to wake her, but stopped before he touched her. She needed all the sleep she could get and anyway what could he say to her that hadn’t already been said? She had obviously come down here because she wanted some time alone. He really wanted to just hear her voice or stroke her head, but he knew he had no right to be selfish and disturb her. Instead, he realised there was another way he could yet save her, and it was slightly less scary than having to tell her how he really felt.

“Angels guard thee,” he whispered, and left as quietly as he had arrived.

\-----------------*

It was after midnight and the workshop housing the Blackbird was in darkness. A shadowy figure sneaked past the guards to the minions’ side door. It was locked, but this was not a problem, because the interloper had a key. The well-oiled Mechanicsburg lock opened without a sound and she slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

The workshop was a large open space, a hangar in which the Blackbirds had been constructed. From there they could be rolled out onto the long runway built across the green sward outside of Mechanicsburg from where they took off and, in theory at least, landed. About five metres above the floor the building was crisscrossed by a series of iron walkways, used to mount cranes and lifting gear during the construction of the _Sturzzeug_. The only internal room in the vast building was a small partitioned office area where the plans for the Blackbird were stored and where the minions could brew a cup of tea and eat their sandwiches during their increasingly infrequent break times.

Fraulein Snaug knew that from now on she would have to be more careful. Sneaking past the bored human guards outside was easy enough, but inside, guarding the precious _Sturzzeug_ , were a squad of Jägerkin, a more serious prospect entirely. The Jägers were the only people who had been pleased by the change in Agatha as the months of that long summer passed. They could see in The Heterodyne the spirit of the Old Masters being slowly reborn as her obsession tipped her towards the brink of madness. The townsfolk of Mechanicsburg found the immortal soldiers becoming more aggressive and more arrogant as they foresaw the day when once again they would be feared and hated across the length and breadth of Europa, not merely the comic relief in someone else’s story.

Fortunately for Snaug most of the squad seemed to be in the office. From inside came the sound of their bawdy singing.

“ _If anyvun come a-courtink hyu, hyu hits dem vit a glass._  
_If anyvun come a-courtink hyu, hyu iz a Mechanicsburg lass._  
_Hyu needn’t even tell dem dot ever hy med hyu choke._  
_That ever hyu came in a sentry box vrapped up in a Jäger’s cloak_ ”

“ _And de guns dey go a-rata-tat-tat_  
_And de knives dey quickly slay_  
_So fear thee vell Polly my dear_  
_For ve gonna be comink  hyur vay!_ "

Nevertheless, Snaug could see a couple of shadowy figures patrolling the open space of the hangar and hear the clang of iron hooves on the metal walkways overhead. Carefully she edged around between the workshop machines towards the _Sturzzeug_ , heading for the rearward propeller. As a patrolling guard walked past, she crouched low and still like a hunted animal behind one of the power-loader exo-skeletons she used during the day to move heavy objects and didn’t dare to start breathing again until the Jäger had passed. Finally, with her heart pounding, she reached her destination without being detected. She reached up to the aft engine housing, but to her surprise the access panel for the main lubricant pump was already open. Whatever else you might say about Fraulein Snaug she is a very conscientious and professional minion. She knew that that panel had been closed when she had left the workshop at the end of the day’s work.

The implications dawned on her too late. Even as she tensed she was tackled from behind and knocked to the floor. Her assailant tried to put her in an arm lock but fumbled in the darkness allowing Snaug to roll on her back, grab a wrench from her toolbelt and blindly jab it at her opponent. The blow connected with something soft and there was a feminine ’Oof’. Surprised and relieved that her opponent was not a Jäger, she swung again, but missed. Something hard hit her arm and she dropped the wrench with a cry of pain. In desperation, Snaug lunged at the shadowy figure, going for the throat but only grabbing a handful of spiky hair in the darkness. Her heavier opponent grappled with her and tried to pin her down.

At that moment, the hangar was illuminated by a blaze of light as the main arc lamps were turned on. Snaug found herself wrestling with Saana Tryggvassen.

“You!!” the two female minions exclaimed together in outraged surprise.

“Hokay ladies,” said an amused voice. “Hif hyu vud like to put hyur hands above hyur heads und stay vere hyu iz, mebbe hy dun schoot hyu chust yet.” They turned to see one of the Jäger guards standing a few yards away pointing his rifle at them. Slowly, they stood up and put their hands in the air. A familiar purple Jäger put his head out of the door of the office.

“Hoy, Cesar,” he shouted. "Vot de dumboozle iz goink on?”

“Hey Maxim,” replied Cesar, “Fraulein Tryggvassen und Fraulein Snaug is vrestling vit each odder by de _Sturzzeug_ ofer here. Hy dun tink dey iz beink goot leedle gurls.”

“Dem!” exclaimed Maxim and hurried over to join Cesar. He looked at the two minions hungrily. They gave him a sheepish grin in return. “Hokay. Put dem in de grease pit!” he ordered, indicating the 3 metre deep pit in the corner of the hangar where the waste oil and grease were hosed from the floor and collected before being washed out into the Dyne to be safely incinerated. Cesar gestured with his rifle and the two ladies, their hearts beating in fear and their hands still raised, were escorted to the steps down into the pit. At least it had been emptied at the end of the day’s work, so there was only a thin sheen of slippery grease on the tiled floor when they reached the bottom of the ladder.

Maxim sauntered back inside the office and the minions heard him shouting from inside as they stood side by side beneath the watchful muzzle of the rifle. Five seconds later the entire squad of Jägers piled out of the office in a state of happy excitement, which for those familiar with Mechanicsburg is far, far scarier than when they are angry. Last out was Ognian with his mad spiky-toothed grin. Snaug wondered where Dimo was; normally the three went everywhere together. Weapons in hand, the squad ran to the edge of the pit and lined up along the railing of the grease pit. The two women exchanged an uneasy, frightened glance. This looked like a firing squad. But surely, even now, the Heterodyne wouldn’t let the Jägers shoot them out of hand? Would she?

 “Hokay!” ordered Maxim, waving his cavalry sabre in the air with a certain undeniable swagger. Too late Saana and Snaug realised that he was not talking to the firing squad along the railing, but to Dimo, waiting on the walkway above them. By the time the two girls realised what was about to happen to them, they only had enough time left to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  The Jägers have their own version of '[Gentleman Soldier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eTjIkTUVeI8)'


	3. The Last Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains a discussion of suicide and self-harm.

Saana Tryggvassen and Fraulein Snaug screamed as Dimo poured the contents of a chemical drum over their heads. Snaug cringed in fear, waiting to see which terrible punishment had been inflicted upon her. Would it be some corrosive molecular acid that would eat away her flesh and bones as she died in torment? Would it be one of those entertaining mutagens that would sculpt her flesh into new and amusing shapes? To her surprise, when the searing agony had failed to materialise and she had wiped the viscous liquid from her eyes, she realised that the Jäger had poured nothing more toxic than EP90 gear lubricant over them both. There was no mistaking that smell; a mixture of engine oil and tomcat urine.

She looked up to where the squad of Jägers were still waiting on the edge of the pit; not standing in line with rifles raised ready to shoot the traitors to the House of Heterodyne, but leaning against the railings, their weapons discarded, watching the two ladies with happy anticipation. Several of them had steins of ale in their hands and one was chewing on what Snaug hoped was a sausage. Cesar, who had been covering them, shouldered his own rifle and joined his comrades. Maxim gestured with his sabre again.

“Hokay ladies. In hyur own time, do carry on,” he said, with a broad grin.

“What?!”

“Iv hyu iz havink a leedle fight, den hyu dun mind iv ve watch do hyu? Und de wrestlink gonna be so much more entertainink now hyu iz all schlippery, ja?”

Snaug put her hands on her hips. “Seriously!” she shouted back in fury. “All you want is to see us wrestling covered in grease?! Whose perverted adolescent fantasy are we indulging here?!”

Maxim looked puzzled by the outburst. “Vell…er … mine,” he said uncertainly.

“Hy tink dot voz anodder ov dem trick qvestions brudder,” Ognian whispered in his ear.

“You lot are disgusting!” yelled Saana, “come Hexalina!” and with that the ladies climbed up the ladder from the grease pit and in sisterly indignation stalked out of the workshop into the night air, with considerably more dignity than you would have thought possible under the circumstances. There was a chorus of resigned disappointment from the assembled squad. The feminine solidarity lasted the seven seconds it took the two minions to remember why they had been in the workshop in the first place.

“You!” they shouted together, spinning around to point an accusing finger at the other. “You are the one that has been sabotaging the Blackbirds!” They both paused and looked at each other in puzzlement.

“No!” exclaimed Snaug, getting her reply in first. “Of course not! Why would I sabotage the Mistress’ plans? No, I was there to wreck the engines and make sure that this one doesn’t fly at all!”

“Don’t tell me,” exclaimed Saana sarcastically, “I suppose you wanted to do it because you know that when that bitch of a dog dies it will break Moloch’s heart and even if you do hate her guts you can’t bear to see him hurt so much.”

“Um, yeah.”

“Seriously?! You expect me to believe that?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Huh! That’s why I was there too!”

“No?! Really?!”

“Let’s face it, he’s completely gone over her. We’ve not got a hope while she’s around and when she dies he’s going to be so heart-broken we’ll never get a look in.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“At least we’ll have the satisfaction of watching her die tomorrow. If we aren’t going to get him at least she won’t either. And you never know, give it a bit of time and a bit of sympathy, maybe I’ll be in with a chance after all.”

“You think so? I’m the one he prefers!!”

“Ha! We’ll see! Let the best women win!”

“Thanks, I’m sure I will.”

“Humph! Anyway, there’s not much we can do about it tonight. So, how about we get cleaned up over in the Hot Rain Engines, then go and have a drink and discuss the perfidy of the male species in detail. I know a little place down Carcosa Alley that does these marvellous cocktails made from Koskenkorva and Stockholm tar.”

“Sounds as good a plan as any.”

“One thing does occur to me though.”

“Oh?”

“That whole ‘wrestling in grease’ thing? I wonder how much we could get the Jägers to pay us to do it properly.”

“Hm… You know, I’ve always wanted to be in show business.”

\--------------------*

As the dawn broke, Florence awoke suddenly from peaceful and happy dreams. She was immediately aware of the smell of Moloch. Moloch! In an instant she was on her feet and alert, but the bower was empty and the smell was several hours old. She forced down her disappointment. After all, what right did she have to take his time? But she so wished that he was there, just so she could be with him and hear the sound of his voice one last time. No doubt he had just come to check that she had not fled Mechanicsburg and was ready to pilot the Blackbird today. Had it been important, of course he would have woken her. Then from above she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs leading down from the Castle to the bower. She pricked up her ears. Perhaps he was coming back! Then she smelt strong tobacco, even as she realised that it was not Moloch’s walk that she could hear. She forced down her disappointment and told herself to stop behaving like a puppy.

The footsteps and the smell of smoke got closer and Higgs came into the bower, puffing furiously on his pipe to wreath himself in the foul fumes of ship’s tobacco. No-one except Florence ever seemed to have thought it odd that an erstwhile crewman on a dirigible should smoke quite so much, but her nose told her that he had an ulterior motive. The smoke helped hide the smell that was human, but not quite human; Jäger but not quite Jäger. Not perceptible to a normal human, but perfectly obvious to creatures like Jägers – and Vapnoople’s wolves – with enhanced olfactory senses. No wonder he had always smoked at every opportunity when he had been part of the Wulfenbach Empire’s army. Now, of course, the subterfuge was no longer necessary, but like many before him, Higgs had found the habit of smoking easier to acquire than to give up.

Higgs found Florence leaning on the balcony of the bower, watching the dawn inch up from behind the distant mountains. “Beautiful sunrise isn’t it?” he said conversationally.

Florence sighed sadly. “It’s my last sunrise.”

“Now what kind of talk is that?” he chided her. “If anyone can fly that machine, you can.”

“But I am still imprisoned here.”

“Really? You can always quit you know. Just resign and walk out of the Castle gate. Lady Heterodyne won’t bother to track you down. Well, probably not.”

“I mean that my soul is a prisoner in this body. My crime, not to die with my pack. My punishment, to live. The hour of gladness is dead and gone and now I live alone in silent sadness. The hope I cherished lies lifeless and all has perished, save a love that never dies.”

“Seriously? You are dying of a broken heart? You’re stronger than that.”

“Not a _broken_ heart. Hearts do not break. They sting and ache for the sake of old love, but they do not die. Why do I stay when hope is gone? Why linger when all is drear? May not a lonely doggy die?”

“If you feel that way, why not just jump over the railings? It’s a good drop and when you hit the rocks your body wouldn't be in any sort of shape to keep your internal organs inside, let alone your soul.”

“Suicide? No, that wouldn't do. It would be wrong and a betrayal of my duty. But dying in the service of the Heterodyne? That is acceptable. That is a way out with honour. That will solve everything. I can stand before my pack of brothers and sisters in the Geldwald and hold my head high.”

“This is your pack now. By your own strength and your efforts you have built a home _here_. Here in Mechanicsburg.”

Across Mechanicsburg, in its Chapel of the Great Cathedral of Mechanicsburg, the Mechanical Cleric inclined its head as though listening to a very faint sound, and one of the lights in the cluster of three on its chest illuminated.

“And don't give up on Moloch just yet,” continued Higgs. “He doesn't know his own heart. Just because things are as they are today, it doesn't mean that is how they will be tomorrow.”

“Moloch?!” exclaimed Florence bitterly. “Don’t talk to me about Moloch! To him I’m only his dog. His little pet.”

“No! Don’t think like that, no matter what he might have said. He’s a bit of a …conservative you know. It may take a little while for his head to synchronise with his heart, but if you give him time he’ll catch up with himself in the end.”

Florence turned and gave Higgs a long, hard stare. “Do… do you honestly think so?”

“Definitely. Especially if his friends help point him in the right direction with a push or two. Or possibly even the occasional kick up the britches.”

“I not sure I believe you, but…,” for a brief moment a smile illuminated her face, “but I suppose I need to get ready for the flight. I’d better go now. But thanks for talking to me.”

As she turned to leave, Higgs drew a small object from his jacket pocket and held it behind his back.

“Oh Florence,” he called, “one more thing.” As Florence turned at the foot of the stairs he threw the rubber ball over her head so it bounced away up the staircase.

“BALL!!” shouted Florence and leapt after it on all fours, springing into the air to catch it in her jaws with a satisfying ‘clomp’ on the second bounce. She raced back down the stairs, her tail wagging rapidly and her eyes shining, to drop the damp ball at Higgs’ feet.

“So,” he asked her, “still think that life is not worth living?” and with faster than human reflexes he picked up the ball and threw it again for her to chase, then followed the wolf back up to the Castle.

Once she was sure they had gone, a small figure dressed in purple slowly unfolded herself from her cramped hiding place amid the roses, stretched her limbs, wiped her eyes and followed her quarry.

\------------------------*

“You’re not seriously going to do this are you von Zinzer?” asked the Castle as, with trembling knees, Moloch ascended the staircase to the Master Control Room. “Today is definitely not a good day to upset The Heterodyne.” If Moloch didn’t know better he could have sworn it sounded concerned.

“I thought you enjoy it when Her Sparkiness starts ranting?” he replied.

“Indeed I do! But you have done as much as anyone except the Mistress to repair and maintain me, and no matter how much you deny it you have been a loyal servant to the House of Heterodyne. You know, I think I almost like you. It would be such a shame if something amusing were to happen to you.”

“So, you’re on my side then.”

“Of course! Should The Heterodyne command it, be assured I will kill you as quickly and painlessly as possible.”

“Thank you _so_ much.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m not completely heartless you know.”

Moloch scowled and walked into the control room. There was a buzz of busy conversation as the various minions prepared the telemetry apparatus. In the centre of the room stood Agatha by the central control console with her back to him, studying a plan of the Blackbird’s flight path. She glanced over her shoulder as he approached and then went back to her obsessive scrutiny.

Moloch took a deep breath, commended his soul to whatever Gods might be interested and spoke the words he had been rehearsing in his mind for half of the night.

“Ag - Lady Heterodyne. You must cancel the flight today! You know it will not succeed and until the technical issues have been resolved any attempt will be a waste of Mechanicsburg’s resources and bring discredit on the name of Heterodyne!” He was surprised at how assertive he sounded. The minions in the room all stopped and stared at him in shock. The sudden silence was deafening.

Agatha tensed and turned on him in fury. Her tirade died unspoken on her lips as Moloch dropped down on his knees and wrapped his arms around Agatha’s legs in supplication.

“Lady Heterodyne. Agatha, please,” he begged, “if your eyes have ever shed tears, bitter unavailing tears, for one untimely dead; if now you are The Heterodyne sad thoughts of him still arise, then please, please let the memory of your long dead friend plead for the life of my wolf. My wolf who will die.”

Agatha remembered a young man lying in her arms with a terrible sword wound across his chest. She felt again the dreadful heartache and that most awful of emotions for a Spark, the feeling of hopelessness as she realised that there was nothing she could do to fix things. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and just for a moment her resolution wavered. But then her train of thought led her to the vast anger at the World that had followed. Awkward little Agatha Clay had gone long ago. It was The Heterodyne who spoke, with an insane rage worthy of the worst (or the best, depending on your point of view) of the Old Masters.

“You too?! You of all people trying to thwart my plans?!” She struck Moloch with a backhanded blow that sent him sprawling across the floor. “You at least I expected to do your duty! You TRAITOR! I shall break the Barrier, despite your puny efforts! Nothing can stop me, not even the laws of reality! And if they dare defy me I will wreak my revenge upon them for their insolence! I'll show you! I’LL SHOW YOU ALL!! GUARDS!!! GUARDS!!!”

The two Jägers, who always stood guard around Agatha nowadays, rushed eagerly into the room.

“Take this... this... traitor and.... and...,” Agatha’s fury momentarily overcame her ability to speak. The Jägers looked at her with happy expectation. “...and throw him out of the Castle! He is no further use to me and as of this moment his service to The Heterodyne is terminated!” The Jägers were disappointed; they had been hoping for one of the less boring options. They grabbed Moloch and started to drag him away. This wasn't strictly necessary as Moloch wasn't resisting, but there are certain formalities to be followed in these situations.

“You know, in the Heterodyne stories, it's always The Villain who shouts ‘Guards! Guards!’ Moloch called back over his shoulder.

“And The Hero always defeats the guards easily armed with no more than a hair brush and a sharpened paper clip!” Agatha retorted. “You are not The Hero in this Story, Herr von Zinzer! Now, TAKE HIM AWAY!!”

The Jägers took him away. Agatha screamed defiance after him and shook her fists at the heavens through the glass ceiling panels, ranting as much at the Universe as at him.

“I shall bend the very elements to my will! You torrents roar, you tempests howl, your wrath outpour with angry growl! Do your worst! My Science shall rise triumphant over all!!”

“She's finally completely lost it hasn't she?” Moloch asked one of the Jägers sadly.

“Ja! Ja!” the monster replied. “Isn't it vunderful! Vot a clever leedle gurl!” He reminded Moloch of a proud father who has just seen his daughter take her first steps.

As the door closed behind them Moloch heard Agatha screaming at the sky.

“MY WRATH WITH SCIENCE WILL BE CROWNED!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

\---------------*

Florence was in her quarters adjusting her flight suit when Violetta knocked on the door and walked in without being invited.

“My Lady has sent me to collect you,” the Smoke Knight announced. “Ready to go for a walk?”

“Always,” replied Florence. “Let me grab my helmet and goggles and I’ll be there.”

“You er… you are going to get into that cockpit and fly that thing aren’t you?” asked Violetta uneasily.

“Of course! Why do you smell so worried that I won’t? Has Lady Heterodyne ordered you to fly instead if I refuse?”

“Oh, no reason.”

As they walked through the corridors of the castle Florence examined Violetta with real concern.

“Have you been crying?” she asked at last as they exited the gate and began the long walk down the causeway.

“No, of course not,” exclaimed the Smoke Knight, “whatever gave you such as stupid idea?”

“It’s just that your eyes look a bit red and…”

“Look, I’ve just been dosing myself with tear gas OK? You know, to keep my immunity up. In case we need to disperse a riot after… after… later on.”

“Oh right. Of course. So does this tear gas smell of roses? Or are you wearing perfume?”

“Part of remaining hidden is disguising smell you know. Why all these questions? Don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

“Sorry,” replied Florence, although she was not sure what exactly she was apologising for. They walked on together in silence for a while.

 “So, do you play poker?” Florence asked as they reached the bottom of the causeway. “You could come and join in our ladies’ Thursday night sessions.”

“What is this, a women’s’ solidarity collective or something?” Violetta muttered morosely.

“No, but you’re a rotten bluffer and a terrible liar, and an old friend once told me it’s morally wrong to allow suckers to keep their money.” Florence smirked at Violetta’s glare.

They walked along the main street leading to the City Gate and the hangar where the Blackbird waited. A crowd had assembled to watch Florence go past. A few of them made encouraging remarks, but most kept silent and few would meet her gaze. Florence knew that they had come to watch her die. Suddenly a little boy, too young to appreciate the full gravity of the situation, escaped from his mother and ran towards her, his arms outstretched, shouting “Doggy! Doggy!” Florence knelt down to accept his embrace and hug him back, her tail wagging rapidly.

“We need to get over to the Blackbird you know.” said Violetta. “You can worry about the adulation later. If there is a later of course.” Florence stood up smiling, refusing to be baited.

“There's always time for a hug.” she told the Smoke Knight.

In its chapel in the cathedral, the Mechanical Cleric nodded its head. Precision gears whirred inside it as the image feed from the Streets of Mechanicsburg was processed. The second light in the cluster of three on its chest illuminated.

Meanwhile, Florence and Violetta had left the crowds behind and reached the Great Gate of Mechanicsburg. As they emerged onto the green pastures beyond there was a buzz of angry aero engines. Florence stopped to watch a small but fast dirigible bearing the Wulfenbach sigil fly low overhead towards the Mechanicsburg docking tower. The Torchmen escorting it in were struggling to keep up.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” remarked Violetta. “Late, and they don’t want to miss the show I expect.” Florence’s experienced eye noted that although the ship was being flown far faster than protocol dictated, it was also being flown with expert skill and precision. It may have been just another airship to Violetta, but the wolf recognised it as the personal skiff of Baron Wulfenbach himself.

\---------------*

Gil’s anger and frustration were building to dangerous levels. He had finally managed to come to an expensive and demeaning arrangement with the Master of Paris and organised his father’s release. The negotiations had taken all night and the exchange of communications had been frustratingly slow, almost certainly at the whim of the Master, who was well aware of the situation in Mechanicsburg and was determined to exploit it to cause the maximum amount of frustration and inconvenience to the young upstart with whom circumstances forced him to deal. To make matters worse, when Gil had managed to talk to his father, Klaus had been anything but grateful or apologetic, but had wasted even more of Gil’s time complaining about how long his son had taken to organise his release and explaining how, if he had still been in charge, he would have handled everything so much better.

Gil expertly docked his ship, but he needed all the mental control techniques at his disposal to keep himself alert and rational. His fury built at the delay while his identity was painstakingly checked by a petty-minded Mechanicsburg official who knew perfectly well who he was but was keen to show that the word of Baron Wulfenbach held no sway in Mechanicsburg. He resolved that the time for subtlety was over. It was time for him to show the high and mighty Lady of Mechanicsburg exactly who was in charge and stop this nonsense with the Barrier once and for all. On the face of it, you would have said that this was not the best decision that he ever made. 

\----------------*

Even the Jägers have a soft spot for Moloch, so he was thrown out of the Castle without sustaining any major injuries. He stood outside the Gate of Lamps in a daze for several minutes and then walked down the causeway to the town. Many, many times he had dreamed of escaping The Heterodyne, but now he was free at last he had absolutely no idea what he would do next or where he would go. He didn’t really care. He wandered through the streets and found a good vantage point to watch the Blackbird make its run.

\----------------*

Violetta and Florence arrived at the hangar where the Blackbird waited. Florence wished they would just get on with it and not make so much fuss, but someone had decided that such an important occasion demanded ceremony. The military band drawn up in front of the closed doors readied their instruments and their conductor raised his baton. At his signal there was a beating of drums and a clash of cymbals as the hangar doors swung open. Then to a fanfare of trumpets the Blackbird was rolled out onto the runway by five four-legged towing clanks. Behind came a clank that looked like a spindly metal spider, which unfolded itself to form an access ladder for the pilot. Florence climbed up into the cockpit and pulled on her flying helmet and goggles while the spider clank fastened her seat belt.

“Florence! Good luck!” a voice called. Florence looked round to see Violetta waving at her. She noticed that the Smoke Knight had still not completely recovered from her tear gas acclimatisation drill. Then the spider clank folded itself up and scuttled away. The cockpit canopy closed. Florence tried to banish the illogical feeling that she was being sealed in her coffin by beginning the procedures to start the two enormous engines. She found herself noticing all the details of the cockpit, more than she had ever done. Not only what the instruments were showing her, but also the details of their construction; the words ‘TLA Tech', the name of the Mechanicsburg machine shop that had made the dials, written in tiny letters on each of the faces; the way that the head of one of the cross-head screws on the cockpit canopy wasn't aligned with all the rest. She wondered if Moloch was watching. With hum, that rose to a whine and then to a roar the forward engine fired up, followed an octave later by the rearward and the two sets of massive contra-rotating propellers began to turn. 

\--------------------*

In preparation for the run that would surely break the Barrier, Agatha insisted that the Main Control Room be cleared. After the first unsuccessful attempt she had made it perfectly clear that she did not want any idiotic chatter or distractions that might break her concentration while she was analysing the telemetry from the Blackbird to find the key datum that could make the difference between failure and success. No-one dared to contradict her after R-79 volunteered to stay behind to help and received such a sustained haranguing that the poor construct was reduced to tears. Two Jägers were posted on the door to make doubly sure that no-one disturbed the Mistress at the vital moment. 

\----------*

The engines of the Blackbird had reached operating temperature. Florence released the brakes and opened the throttles. The acceleration as the _Sturzzeug_ shot down the runway pushed her back into her seat and she pulled back on the control wheel. The eyes of the crowd lining the walls and streets of Mechanicsburg followed the Blackbird as it left the ground, but one pair of eyes were having difficulty focusing. Moloch found his vision blurring with tears. He had to turn his back and walk away from the spectacle. He sat down on an empty bench beneath the eaves of a house, drew his legs up so his knees were beneath his chin and trembled and wept like a child, believing that no-one could see him. He was wrong. From a tower of the Cathedral the Mechanical Cleric was watching the _Sturzzeug_ climb, but it was also observing other things through the Castle's eyes. On its chest, the final light of the cluster of three illuminated and there was a soft noise, somewhere between a mechanical chime and a voice softly singing. The clank turned and looked down to Dr Yglyn standing beside him.

“You were correct,” it told him in its harmonious voice. “Florence is a person.”

“Told you so,” replied the curate. “Not that it’s going to do her much good.”

\---------------*

From a window in Castle Heterodyne, Higgs and Zeetha watched the Blackbird begin its slow spiral climb up to high altitude to begin its run.

“I must admit, I am most pleased and gratified by your relationship counselling with Herr von Zinzer and the little doggy.” said a voice, intruding on their privacy. Both of them had strong enough nerves not to let the Castle make them jump.

“Thanks. We do our best.” said Zeetha but Higgs had too much experience of Castle Heterodyne to take that at face value.

“What do you mean?” he asked the ceiling. “You have something you want to be telling us?”

“Oh, nothing really,” replied Castle Heterodyne. “Only that von Zinzer didn't really acknowledge his true feelings until Zeetha's little chat. And the doggy was quite resigned to dying for The Heterodyne until ‘Mr Higgs’ here gave her hope. Now, when she dies in the next half hour, it's going to be so much more difficult and painful for both of them. I am _most_ impressed. The Old Masters could not have done it better. Why, this could be an opera!”

Zeetha looked at Higgs in dismayed realisation.

“Oh dear me,” gloated the Castle, “you really didn't think this through _at all_ did you?! MWAHAHAHAHA!!” The worst thing about the maniacal laughter was that it was so horribly genuine.

\-----------------*

Finally, Gil had cleared Mechanicsburg immigration, not so much because of his blustering as because the officials wanted to watch the Blackbird’s flight. He stormed through the streets from the docking tower and up the causeway to Castle Heterodyne, the fury on his face parting the crowds before him the way that Moses parted the Red Sea. At least the Castle made no attempt to stop him as he marched through its gate and along its corridors, but at the doors to the Main Control Room his way was blocked by the two Jäger guards, who made it perfectly clear that the Mistress was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. They broke into delighted, intimidating, spiky-toothed grins at the prospect of imminent violence.

\--------------*

The Blackbird finished its spiral climb and Florence levelled out at high altitude ready for the run. She checked all the instruments again; everything was working perfectly. Surely, she thought, nothing can go wrong. I can do this! With a final thought of Moloch, she lined up the nose towards Mechanicsburg and opened up the throttles. As the speed began to build, the _Sturzzeug_ began to shake as predicted. Florence fought to keep it under control and on course. Then as the speed approached The Barrier, the nose angled down slightly. Florence pulled back on the control wheel to correct, but the nose of the Blackbird continued to drop and the _Sturzzeug_ went into steep dive. It was then Florence finally knew that she was going to die. She had expected not to survive the day, but somehow, she had never quite believed it. Now, with the control wheel pulled back to its maximum position and the Blackbird in a near vertical dive, she knew there would be no escape.

\--------------------*

With a brief check that neither of the Jägers had life threatening injuries (at least injuries that would threaten the life of a Jäger), Gil burst through the door of the Main Control Room. The walls and consoles were filled with arrays of alarming flashing lights and ominous dials, all indicating the imminent demise of the Blackbird and its pilot. Through the large windows and glazed ceiling he could see the vapour trail in the sky diving towards destruction.

“AGATHA!” he shouted. “I DEMAND that you stop this madness at once! STOP...!” and then he stood motionless in amazement. There was no-one in the control room.

\---------------------*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who has ever used EP90 will recognise that distinctive smell.
> 
> TLA Tech is from 21st Century Fox by Scott Kellogg


	4. The First Sunset

Gil strode into the empty control room and past the central console to examine the instruments on the far wall, enraged at the thought that he had been fooled. The ominous readings gave no hope that he would find a way to save Florence. Then behind him he heard a sob, a tiny whimper of distress. Looking round he saw Agatha sitting beneath the desk of the console, hugging her knees to her body. Tears of guilt and anguish streamed down her cheeks. Her wide eyes were fixed on the white vapour trail plunging from the sky to destruction. She reached out her arms to Gil in silent appeal, as she had reached out her arms to her parents when she was a little girl during her unhappy childhood. Gill rushed to her and took her in his arms. Agatha clung to him so tightly he had difficulty breathing. Together they watched the drama high above them play out.

\---------------*

In the cockpit of the Blackbird Florence stared at the patchwork of fields rushing towards her. She had the control wheel pulled back to the limit of travel, but still the _Sturzzeug_ refused to pull out of its terminal dive. She forced herself to stay calm and think. Think! She remembered her words to Lady Heterodyne. She wasn't only a pilot; she was an engineer. She didn't rely on only the controls and the instruments. She could see what the _Sturzzeug_ was actually doing. Look! Look beyond the controls and instruments! Ignore the ground coming to kill her! Look at the Blackbird! She tore her eyes away from the terrifying view in front of her and looked to left and right out of the Perspex windows – and suddenly she understood everything. Without hesitation she pushed the control wheel forwards.

\--------------------*

Moloch heard the howl of the engines in their terminal dive and, almost against his will, felt compelled to rejoin the crowd to watch the inevitable end. He saw the Blackbird suddenly level out of its power dive at the last moment and head directly for Mechanicsburg, its fuselage surrounded by a cloud of compressed water vapour. Then as it screamed over the entranced crowd, below the level of the courtyard of the Castle on its hill, the cloud expanded into a halo and a sonic boom silenced the gasps, rattled the tiles and cracked the window panes.

And that is how the Blackbird broke the Barrier. All of the Barriers. It pulled up into the blue sky, trading speed for height, the roar of the twin engines fading as they were throttled back, to be replaced by the roar of the ecstatic crowd. In the centre of the cacophony, Moloch stood silent with his mouth open and his hands by his side, following the shiny black shape in the sky with amazement as his world rearranged itself around him.

\-----------*

In the control room, Agatha leaped to her feet and ran to the windows to watch the Blackbird level out below her and then gave a great shout of triumph and leapt in the air as the shock wave rattled the panes.

“I did it! I did it! I’ve broken The Barrier!” she screamed in pure unadulterated joy. Gil came to her, grinning all over his face. Agatha launched herself at him with a flying leap and flattened him to the ground. Then she put her arms around him and kissed him as she had never kissed him before. Baron Wulfenbach lay back and didn’t think of the Empire.

\-----------------*

In the Blackbird, Florence was not celebrating. She might have broken the Barrier, but at a much lower altitude than planned, where sound was faster, the air much denser and the resultant stresses on the airframe much larger. The perfectly polished black surface of the _Sturzzeug_ had been buckled and distorted by the unreasonable forces, all the precision engineering and care that had gone into its construction now but a distant memory. Florence needed every ounce of her skill to manoeuvre back towards the landing strip. The crippled _Sturzzeug_ lurched and rattled as she lined it up for its final approach to the runway, fighting with the control wheel to keep it in the air. She pulled the lever to lower the undercarriage and to her relief the wheels deployed and locked.

‘Come on, come on,’ thought Florence, ‘just a little further; don’t let me down now.’ She saw the lights that marked the start of the runway. ‘Five miles out,’ she thought, ‘just hold your heading true, got to get my finest out. Come on Florence, you can celebrate when you’re down and braking.’ The forward engine, already protesting and streaming cooling fluid suddenly seized and the propeller blades stood still. The Blackbird decelerated as though it had been grasped by a giant hand and for a heart-stopping moment Florence thought that she was going to crash short of the runway. She feathered the forward propellers and applied power to the rear engine for one last effort. The extra push gave the Blackbird just enough height and momentum to reach the threshold. There were a few clangs from somewhere as it touched down, but the undercarriage stayed locked and didn’t collapse. Immediately Florence cut the power and applied the brakes. The howling of the engine wound down and the Blackbird slowed to a stop.

Suddenly, all was silence and Florence realised that, incredibly, she was still alive. She sat in the cockpit, unsure what to do next. She became aware of a dampness on her chest; the front of her flight overalls were soaked with drool. A normal human pilot would have been drenched with sweat but a wolf is covered with fur and can only sweat through her tongue. She pulled off her flying helmet and goggles, slid back the canopy (not without a little difficulty) and climbed out onto the fuselage. Only then did it occur to her that, despite all the rigorous preparation and planning, she had not been expected to make it back down alive. No-one had thought to tell the spider clank to come to the Blackbird after it landed and deploy its ladder so she could climb down from the cockpit.

\-----------*

Once the Blackbird came to a stop, the crowd surged out through the gates of Mechanicsburg to acclaim the hero of the hour. Moloch was swept along in the flow. The throng reached the landing strip, but where stopped from getting too close by a ring of intimidating defensive clanks that had surrounded and protected the _Sturzzeug_. Moloch was trapped far from Florence in the crush, unable to reach her. Suddenly the pressure parted and a vast menacing shadow loomed over him. General Goomblast had arrived to take charge.

“Hoy, hyu vants to get ofer to see the leedle doggy, ja?” he asked good humouredly. “Dot iz not a probeem. Kommst du!” He picked Moloch up and placed him on his shoulder, like a father placing his infant son on his shoulders, and strode through the crowd. He didn’t push them aside. Whatever else you might say about General Goomblast, he has impeccable manners (most of the time). It was simply that no-one wanted to get in his way. In no time at all he reached the cordon of clanks, who parted in front of him. With a broad triumphant grin (and no-one grins as broadly as General Goomblast) he marched over to the Blackbird and deposited Moloch on the twisted wing.

Florence was still sitting on the fuselage, wondering how exactly she was going to get through the crowd. She was not surprised that Moloch had arrived so quickly. Of course he would want her technical assessment straight away. She only hoped he would not be too angry at the state of the Blackbird. It looked as though it had been attacked by a squad of Jägers wielding big mallets.

“Herr von Zinzer, I know what the problem is,” she told him, ever the professional ready to present her report. “The wings are... mmph!” She was suddenly silenced by Moloch embracing her and kissing her on the mouth. She flapped her arms up and down in surprise, almost as though she was trying to fly away under her own power, before she managed to grab his head and unstick him from her muzzle. The cheering crowd quietened, wondering what would happen next, aware that the drama of the day was not yet over.

“Have you been drinking?” she asked him sternly, sniffing at his breath. She didn't believe her nose. She snuffled more closely, pushing her nose into the neck of his shirt and then drew her head back and looked him in the eye. An understanding passed between them. “Oh my!” she whispered. Then the two embraced and kissed each other properly. The delighted roar of the crowd was almost as loud as the sonic boom when the Blackbird broke the Barrier.

An indeterminate time later, they became aware of a discreet coughing close by. Actually they realised that the coughing might have started discreetly but was rapidly losing all discretion and was starting to consider the virtues of a bucket of water, and if that didn't work, possibly a crowbar. General Goomblast was still standing next to the Blackbird. At some point he had been joined by General Gkika and a squad of Jägerkin who were doing their best to clear a path for the heroic aviator back to Mechanicsburg. Florence and Moloch were hoisted onto the Generals’ shoulders, to keep them safe from the crowd and to make sure everyone could see them, and carried in triumph back to the City. The informal procession was accompanied by the inevitable Mechanicsburg street band that played an exultant tune as they went, passed backwards and forwards between the trumpet and the fiddle. Afterwards, it became known as Florence's Triumph, and was always a favourite at victory celebrations.

“Looks like her Sparkiness has solved the problem after all,” said Moloch as he started to relax and enjoy the moment.

“With a little help from her loyal minions,” added Florence.

“For the last time, I am _not_ a minion!”

“I’m sorry, did I mention your name at all?” Florence asked him with a sly smile. Moloch grinned back.

“Iz a glorious day vor de House ov Heterodyne,” shouted General Gkika as they walked back through the gates of the city.

“Ja, ja,” agreed General Goomblast, “But iz a bit disappointink dot de Lady iz gon be all borink agen now hy tink.”

“And this is bad is it?” asked Moloch.

“Bah, dese old ogres gon sulk for a bit,” said General Gkika, “but hey, a couple ov goot invashions and dey gon be fine. Und hyu know, de pack alvays vitters on about de Goot Old Days, ven ve did de raids through all de leedle towns und de townies did all de runnink und schcreamink, but ven hyu’ve bin burnink down de same places vor tvo hunnert years, it all gets a bit de same, hyu know. Bin dere, blown dot up. Hokay, vit de new Heterodyne ve dun get to do so much fightink, but ve gets a lot better qvality ov enemy! Ve gets to fight pipple dot knows how to fight back! Goot times!”

“Except vor dem revoltink guys ov cawse,” grumbled Goomblast. “Hyu know von Zinzer, hyu cud heff encouraged dem a bit more.”

“That was _not_ my fault!” exclaimed Moloch.

Both Generals gave a sceptical snort by way of a reply. Florence, who had been one of the revoltink guys, diplomatically kept her mouth shut.

\--------------*

In the control room, Agatha and Gil had disentangled themselves from each other for long enough to get their breath back. Agatha’s initial elation was starting to subside and the guilt was starting to build. She put her arms round Gil again and took comfort from his hug.

“I feel as though I’m waking up from a nightmare,” she whispered softly. “I wanted to break the Barrier so badly. I had to do it. I needed to do it. I felt so hopeless and useless when I failed in front of everyone. In the back of my mind I could hear them all laughing at me, all the time, and that made me so angry. I was so annoyed that the people around me couldn’t make things happen the way I wanted them to, but I felt so guilty at the way I was treating everyone, especially when it meant sending people to die. Especially when it was Florence. And then I got angry at them again because they were making me feel guilty. And it all kept going round and round in my head until I thought I was going to explode. And I couldn’t show weakness, I couldn’t fail, not in front of the whole world. I had to show them. I had to show them all. And it hurt. I’m… I’m sorry about how I treated you, how I treated everyone.”

“Hush now,” whispered Gil, softly stroking her hair. “You are a Spark, and The Heterodyne in your own lair. Feelings like that are all perfectly normal. I’m sure no-one hardly noticed at all. They’ll all be delighted that you won in the end.”

Agatha gave a sigh of relief. “Are you sure? That’s so reassuring. I’m glad I didn’t upset anyone.” She stretched in Gil’s arms. “And now I suppose we should go and accept the adulation of the people. Coming?” The two of them got to their feet, straightened their clothing and headed for the door. Agatha was slightly puzzled by the two unconscious Jägers on the threshold, but before she could pass comment, a small worried figure clad in purple climbed the stairs to the control room. If Violetta was at all surprised by the somewhat tousled appearance of The Lady of Mechanicsburg and Baron Wulfenbach, she was too discreet to mention it.

“Where have you been?!” Agatha exclaimed. Then she noticed the expression on the Smoke Knight’s face for the first time. “Are you OK? Have these two been upsetting you?” She indicated the two unconscious Jägers. Violetta gave her a strange look, but the fear in her eyes that had never been far away in the last weeks faded as she realised that Agatha was back.

“You sent me to keep an eye on Florence, remember?” she replied. “She got into the Blackbird without any fuss after all. I didn’t have to… have to… have to persuade her at all.”

“I’m sure you didn’t!” exclaimed Agatha. “She’s always such a good dog. So what’s the matter? I’ve broken the Barrier, but you look so sad.”

“While I was watching Florence I overheard her talking to Higgs, and she is so loyal and she loves Moloch so much and it would have been so sad if she had died and now she’s still alive they’re both together and they look so happy and…” She turned away, muttering about something in her eye. Agatha came up behind her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Moloch and Florence are together? How simply marvellous!”

Violetta sniffed, “Yeah, everyone’s going to live happily ever after.”

“Ah, yes sorry,” said Agatha. “I was forgetting that…. Don’t worry, I’m sure in another reality that didn’t have Florence in it, you would have been the one he chose.”

“Great! Absolutely bloody fabulous!”

“Anyway, there’s lots of good fish in the sea!”

“Right!” Violetta took a deep breath and shrugged off Agatha’s hand. “OK, highly trained Smoke Knight, putting her dedication to Lady Heterodyne before personal feelings coming through. Let’s go.” She wiped her eyes, straightened her shoulders and resumed her usual position slightly behind and slightly to the left of Agatha, as the three of them walked down to the Castle gate to meet the heroic aviator.

\--------------------*

Even with the help of the Jägers it took some time for Florence and Moloch to get back through the celebrating crowds who were all eager to congratulate the gallant pilot, shake her hand, or just to see her. Finally they made it through the narrow streets and reached the bottom of the causeway to the Castle. The Generals (and the band) left them there to walk up to the Castle together hand-in-paw.

When they reached the gates of the Castle, Moloch hung back out of sight while Florence walked up to the Heterodyne and kneeled before her. Agatha raised the wolf to her feet and embraced her.

“Oh Florence, I am so, so sorry,” she whispered. Florence looked at her in puzzlement.

“What for?” she asked suspiciously.

“For ever doubting that you could do it,” replied Agatha.

“It was my engineering knowledge that got me through!” explained Florence, wagging her tail. “I know what the problem with the Blackbird is. The wings aren’t stiff enough. At high speed there’s so much stress on the wings that when the ailerons move they make the wings flex in the opposite direction so the controls reverse. Pull the wheel back – it just dives more! But push the wheel forwards and the Blackbird comes out of the dive!”

“Yes! That would explain everything!” exclaimed Agatha, “And it’s so easy to fix! If we add some adamantium reinforcement to the main wing spar then…”

“Yes!” chimed in Gil, joining the two ladies, “and then if you compensate for the extra weight by reducing the strengthening around the pilot’s cockpit…”

“…and then we could make it go even faster if we….!”

“I don’t like to interrupt, but I think you have some waving to do,” said Violetta, breaking up what was threatening to become a huddle. The three became aware of the vast crowds waiting beneath them. They moved to a convenient balcony at the top of the Causeway that overlooked all the open spaces of the town and acknowledged the vast cheer that arose when they came into view.

\----------------------*

Down in Dagon Square Fraulein Snaug and Saana Tryggvassen were in the crowd, although they weren’t joining in the cheering.

“I’m glad Florence didn’t die in the end,” said Saana, caught up in the romance of the moment. “In a way, I rather like her.”

“Seriously?” asked Snaug angrily, “How can you possibly like someone so sickeningly nice? And she calls her herself a minion to the Heterodyne! You know what? I don’t care about how Moloch feels any more. She isn’t going to have him! She will die!”

“Good luck with that. If you kill her and then the Mistress crushes you for your insolence the field will be left wide open for me!”

But Snaug had already stormed off through the masses towards Castle Heterodyne.

\--------------------*

Unseen, just inside the entrance of Castle Heterodyne, Zeetha and Higgs were watching Agatha, Gil and Florence with quiet satisfaction. Zeetha noticed a new ring on The Heterodyne’s finger as she waved to her people. It wasn’t an expensive or elaborate ring coated with precious stones made by some master craftsman or even some Spark-created Abomination of Science. It looked more like an old brass gas pipe fitment stamped with a crude Wulfenbach sigil than fine jewellery for the Lady of Mechanicsburg. Zeetha had seen it many times before, but now it was finally back where it belonged. She allowed herself a contented smile.

“So,” she asked the ceiling. “Still think this will make a good opera?”

“Hrmph.” replied Castle Heterodyne from behind her left ear, “whoever heard of an opera with a happy ending? Looks as though it will have to be an operetta and where is the fun in that?”

“You seem to be taking this remarkably well.”

“Pshaw! I am Castle Heterodyne! Ageless and immortal! This is, I admit, a little disappointing, but I have seen many Heterodynes come and go, some very good at being a Heterodyne and some merely disgustingly good. The Lady Heterodyne may not be about to embrace her heritage today but the last weeks have reassured me that the true blood of the Heterodynes burns powerfully within her. Who knows what will happen next year? Or next decade? Or in fifty years? And even better, now I have every hope that the bloodline will continue and at last there will be new Heterodynes.”

“In that last point at least we agree,” said Zeetha with a smile, “and as soon as possible if I have anything to do with it.” She walked out through the gate to join Agatha. Higgs lingered behind.

“I thought that all went rather well,” the Castle said to him.

“You think so?” Higgs replied. “It isn’t what we wanted, is it?”

“Nonsense! We win no matter what. I admit that if the Blackbird had crashed and The Heterodyne had ascended into madness, life would have become so much more entertaining, but we now have other positive outcomes instead. The next generation of Heterodynes for one thing.”

“I suppose you are right, and of course, we both know that a lot of that emotional instability was being driven by guilt, rather than proper Madness, so there was always the possibility that she would have descended into melancholy and been no fun at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure that could have been avoided with proper management, and once more the lives of the citizens of our fair city would have been enlivened by such jolly creations as the legendary dangerous fountain made of sausages.”

“You’re shaking me up again! Euphrosynia didn’t actually make that after the fall of the Storm King did she?”

“Ah, you youngsters, always so sceptical. Of course, we may have to wait a little longer for our true Heterodyne, but at least the little doggy has survived and thanks to you and your lady-friend, she too has a paramour. No doubt there will soon be offspring. Just think of it. A pack of Vapnoople’s wolves, unthinkingly loyalty not to Dr Dim, but to the House of Heterodyne, combining the mechanical expertise of the best minions, the savagery of a wolf and strength capable of tearing a Jäger apart! I look forward to the imminent patter of little paws through my corridors!”

“You’re being a little optimistic there aren’t you? You don’t even know if Florence can breed with a human.”

“And you are ever the pessimist. This is nothing that The Heterodyne cannot fix!”

“Good point. I’ll mention to Lady Heterodyne how sad it will be if Florence and Moloch can’t have children.”

“You will do nothing of the kind young man! You will mention it to your young lady, who will most certainly pass it on to Lady Heterodyne at great length until she does something about it, by which time both of them will have quite forgotten that it was not their idea. It’s only…”

“What?”

“I only hope that all those puppies are going to be easy to housetrain.”

\---------------------------*

While all the self-congratulation was going on, Moloch was standing uneasily in a corner by the gate, wondering what exactly he was doing there and, as he’d technically been sacked earlier that day, what exactly his status was. He was about to quietly sidle off out of the way when Florence came across and pulled him to the balcony, so he could share in the moment and get the credit that he deserved. Agatha shook his hand and congratulated him, from which he gathered he was back in gainful employment again. Violetta, not without a touch of malice, pushed him to the front of the balcony so the crowd could see him. He gave a terrified grin and waved like a poorly articulated automaton. Fortunately, his ordeal didn’t last too long. The crowd had cheered itself out and was already starting to turn its attention to the serious business of the celebration party.

“I suppose we should make a start on making the next Blackbird,” Florence said.

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to repair the old one?” asked Moloch.

“Oh no, that one will never fly again. The airframe is completely overstressed and both the engines are…”

“Now then,” Zeetha interrupted, walking up behind them, “you two should go somewhere private and have a long talk.”

“I thought that was what we were doing,” replied Moloch. “OW!” he added as Zeetha cuffed him on the back of the head in exasperation. “Oh, you mean…,” but he did not get to complete his sentence because Florence was already dragging him into the Castle.

“And if you’ll excuse me,” said the Baron, giving one final wave to the crowd and putting an arm around Agatha’s waist, “I have someone… er… I mean something that needs seeing to.” Agatha gave a little giggle.

\----------------------*

Hurrying back to their quarters, Florence and Moloch had got as far as the corridor outside the grand ball room of the Heterodynes, when they were confronted by a monstrous mechanism that lumbered round the corner and blocked their path. Moloch recognised it as one of the power loaders the minions used to move heavy objects, a vaguely humanoid yellow-painted exoskeleton that amplified the strength of the operator. This one had had a small death ray jury-rigged on to one of the arms and Fraulein Snaug in the driver’s position. She pointed the death ray at Florence.

“Get away from him you bitch!” she snarled.

Moloch was about to give Snaug a stern talking too, but Florence stepped in front of him.

“No Moloch, this is something we need to work out between ourselves,” she told him.

“Too right!” exclaimed Snaug.

Florence indicated the open doors to the ballroom, “Shall we dance?” she asked.

“But…” protested Moloch.

“No you stay outside in the corridor,” Florence commanded, fixing Moloch with a predator’s stare, “Sit! Stay!”

“Oh, er, righto.” Florence and Snaug walked into the ballroom.

“Oh, this has been such an exciting day and it isn’t over yet!” said the Castle, slamming the doors behind them. Moloch sat down and stayed in the corridor, his heart in his mouth. From inside the ballroom he heard the engines of the power loader being gunned to full throttle. There came a series of zaps, a lupine yelp, several metallic clangs, a female scream, a large explosion and then the sound of breaking glass as all the windows of the room blew out. The doors were outlined by a flare of flame and then, very slowly, they toppled forward into the corridor with a loud crash. Moloch heard a low, deep growl that made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Oh, that was so exhilarating!” exclaimed the Castle happily. “OK Herr von Zinzer, it’s safe to go in now.” With the experience of his many years as a resident in Castle Heterodyne Moloch carefully peered around the blackened door frame. The wreckage of the power loader was scattered around the room amid the broken furniture and smashed glass. Snaug was lying on her back on the floor. Florence, her fur smoking, was sitting astride her chest with barred teeth inches from her rival’s throat.

“I yield! I yield!” whimpered Snaug.

“Who’s the alpha female?” growled Florence.

“You are! You are!”

“Correct! Now that’s established, get to work and clean this mess up!” Florence got to her feet and walked from the room without a backward glance. Moloch paused in the doorway, feeling a lingering sympathy for Fraulein Snaug.

“Come _along_ Moloch!” snapped Florence from the corridor.

“Yes dear,” he said and came to heel.

\---------------------------*

That evening, Florence sat at an open window in Castle Heterodyne watching the sun set. Moloch walked over to join her. She whined in pleasure as he ran a hand down the bare fur along her spine. He sat down beside her and put his arm around her. She gave him a gentle lick in the ear. He licked her back.

“Hey, you taste of cinnamon,” he told her with a grin.

“Moloch,” she asked, laying her head on his shoulder, “what are the three laws of humanity?”

“Hm? The Laws of Humanity? Oh yeah, Tarvek was going on about them when he visited last year while he was looking up stuff in the Library to help him fix his Muses. Let’s see. I think he said that they were dreamed up by some weird British Spark called Pratchett, who was trying to work out how you could tell the difference between a machine like a clank that can give perfectly good answers to any questions you might give it, but is still only a pile of cogs and levers, and a real person that thinks and feels and is self-aware. He came up with a set of three rules – Pratchett's Three Laws of Humanity if you like.”

“And what are they?”

“Well, typical Spark stuff. They sound good and they probably mean something if you are a mad scientist, but almost completely useless for their intended purpose. Let's see now: 'A Man has strength enough to build a home, a Man has time enough to hold a child and a Man has love enough to break a heart’.”

Florence raised her head and turned to look at him. “Did I break your heart?”

“Yeah, well, when the Blackbird took off it was as though my world was coming to an end. Everything I'd ever done seemed meaningless. All the pleasure I could remember seemed empty and cold. And then when you pulled out....” His voice faltered and Florence gave him a gentle nuzzle. He gazed into her eyes. “Did I break yours? You heard me talking to Zeetha back after your trial didn't you? I'm so sorry if I hurt you...” Florence put her hand to his mouth to silence him.

“Shush. That's the past. We are here, now, together. Watch the sun set and share this one perfect moment with me.”

“Haven't you ever seen a sunset before?” he asked her.

“No,” she whispered, “this is my first sunset.”

==================*

## Epilogue

The events of this story were indeed made into an opera and, as the Castle predicted, it was roundly condemned by the critics because it can't be a proper opera if it has a happy ending. In fact, like most operas, it had some great moments and some not so good quarter of an hours. Some of the good parts became well-known pieces in their own right and are often included on those wax cylinders of 'Your Favourite Opera Extracts' that you always find in charity shops, including Florence's Triumph, the fanfare that greeted the Blackbird as it was rolled out of the hangar, [Florence's Lament to Higgs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0u9cToqhsI), [Moloch’s plea for Florence’s life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQB8LYKhLog) and the famous Sunset Melody that closes the opera. However the most celebrated song is the lullaby that Moloch sings over the sleeping Florence in the Bower scene, which has become a staple in the repertoire of every tenor in Europa.

Now I know that Florence always makes fun of that song, firstly because the over-sentimental words appear to have hammered into the tune to make them fit, secondly because everyone knows that Moloch can't sing a note and thirdly because she wouldn't have got much sleep if he'd been standing there belting out opera at the top of voice. However, when Tarvek sang ‘[Angels Guard Thee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUXWaeYPkKA)’ at one of Lady Heterodyne's soirées not so long ago, I saw her and Moloch sitting at the back hand in hand and both of them were crying their eyes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And there you have it, the story that should have stayed in the Black Vault; far too sentimental, at best soppy, at worst silly and cheesy._   
>  _The English Spark Pratchett is of course the late lamented Terry Pratchett, and the three laws of humanity are taken from his book ‘Wintersmith’, although they are not called that in his story. Steeleye Span released an album in collaboration with Sir Terry based on the book, including ‘The Making of a Man’, which is all about the three laws. I can recommend the entire album, although I find that when I listen to the last track, ‘We shall wear Midnight’ I always seem to get something in my eye._   
>  _This story has been a long time in the preparation and that last scene was written some time before[this Freefall Strip](http://freefall.purrsia.com/ff2800/fc02704.htm) appeared. _

**Author's Note:**

> _Florence is of course inspired by Florence Ambrose from Freefall. For those of you not familiar with the comic, an important plot thread is whether the genetically-engineered Ms Ambrose (and incidentally the 450 million robots on the planet Jean who share the same neural architecture) can be considered to be real people or not._   
>  _Dr Jenny Curtis is from 21st Century Fox by Scott Kellogg._
> 
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> 
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> 
> _Agatha Heterodyne, the rest of the cast and Mechanicsburg are copyright Studio Foglio._


End file.
